


Never Be Lonely

by morphosyntactic



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 13:30:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19230094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morphosyntactic/pseuds/morphosyntactic
Summary: "A bloody church, Aziraphale," Crowley hissed. "A church! What kind of self-respecting son of Satan chooses to get married in a church?"Aziraphale and Crowley, and a few significant moments in Adam Young's life.





	Never Be Lonely

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Queen, of course.

It was the wedding of the Antichrist. A day that by all rights was never supposed to exist; so it seemed as good a time as any for an angel and a demon to reach the crest of the inevitable, the unthinkable, the inexorable--

"Ow," said Aziraphale without a trace of annoyance, and not without a breathy, interested note. "Did you just bite me?"

 "Oh my," drawled Crowley. His eyes sparked, unfiltered, utter delighted. "All these thousands of years and you _have_ been missing out, haven't you?"

 

***

 

The air around Tadfield Senior School was alive with nerves and excitement and a heavy cloud of teenage hormones. It looked oddly colourful, with students milling about in their own clothes instead of drab school uniforms as they compared slips of paper and chattered, celebrated, commiserated.

"So this is where you got to," said a voice, appearing suddenly next to Aziraphale without so much as a puff of smoke.

With the practice of someone who had been enduring sudden appearances for centuries, Aziraphale simply smiled. "Yes. I thought I'd see you here."

"Yes, well. It's -- you know. Big day. A day we almost never had."

"He looks rather happy, doesn't he?"

"As if exam results matter," said Crowley. "They were definitely one of ours."

" _Ours_?" Aziraphale asked.

Crowley waved a dismissive hand. "You know what I mean. My old team. The former side. You know they have to take see-through pencil cases in with them when they take their GCSEs these days? It's mad." He still sounded faintly pleased, something Aziraphale chose to ignore.

"All passes," Aziraphale said proudly. "An A* in Literature, you know," he added, and as he did his voice just started to flirt with the realms of smug.

"That's your influence, that is."

"I certainly hope so."

Across the road over by the school gates, a sixteen year old Adam Young looked up over his mother's shoulder as she enveloped him in a hug. He stared at the two figures in the distance, and after a moment, waved.

"Come on," said Crowley after a long moment, breaking a spell that was starting to feel a bit too heartfelt for his liking. "I'll let you buy me lunch."

 

***

 

"Slumming it, angel?"

Aziraphale hummed, looking around at the dark, dingy pub. "It is an awful place, isn't it?" The floor was sticky. So was the table he was currently sitting at.

"Horrible," said Crowley agreeably, dropping down into the chair opposite Aziraphale in a long sprawl of limbs. "It's excellent. Have you ordered yet?"

"No." Aziraphale had a vaguely pained look on his face. "There's no table service. You have to go up to the bar."

Crowley grinned. "Lovely. I'll go, shall I? I want to get a glimpse of her anyway."

"Don't interfere," Aziraphale said sharply. "You know what Anathema said--"

"I know, I know. I just want to take a quick look at the woman who will steal the Antichrist's heart." Crowley returned several minutes later, with a bottle of wine, two glasses and what, for Crowley, counted as an impressed look on the parts of his face not obscured by his sunglasses. "Very nice," he said. "Despite Adam's horrible choice in first date venue. She's very _tempting,_  isn't she?"

"It's not temptation." Aziraphale smiled. He'd worried, once or twice, here and there, over the past few years - would Adam's background impact on his future relationships? It was in his nature; there were some things he couldn't help, and the pub was awful but it was a moment he'd wanted to see. "It's love."

"All love starts as some kind of temptation. Do you think they know, you know, that this is _it_? Even now?" Crowley asked. "Poor sods," he added quickly, and somewhat unconvincingly.

Aziraphale thought, suddenly, of long afternoons at the Ritz and the ducks at St. James' Park; to being handed a stack of miraculously undamaged books; to the soft, sibilant sound of hissing in a brilliantly green garden.

"How could they?" he replied. "How does anyone?"

Crowley didn't respond, but he did shift in his chair. His snakeskin boots knocked against Aziraphale's shoe; instead of moving away, he pressed their calves together. "May I offer you some terrible wine, Aziraphale?" He held up the bottle, which now had a label significantly more expensive looking than it did when Crowley first brought it over from the bar.

"Thank you, dear," said Aziraphale, holding his glass out for Crowley to pour.

For once, Crowley didn't smirk. He smiled, and said, "Cheers."

 

***

 

"A bloody _church_ , Aziraphale," Crowley hissed. "A church! What kind of self-respecting son of Satan chooses to get married in a church?"

"Oh," said Aziraphale, ignoring the continued hissing and gesticulating coming from beside him, and looking around happily instead. "It's lovely. She's beautiful. Didn't he grow up to be so handsome?"

"It's not lovely. It's a _church_. He is the _Antichrist_."

"Oh, be quiet and don't make a scene."

"Don't make a scene? Oh, okay, I'll try not to make a scene as I burn up because Adam Young decided to get married in a church and you're a sentimental bastard who insisted on being here."

Aziraphale, in the spirit of the day and as a gesture of good will, chose not to point out that he had neither invited Crowley to come with him nor told him he would be here. Crowley had simply appeared on the outskirts of the church grounds, not long after Aziraphale had, and immediately started bemoaning the venue as they watched the wedding party disappear inside.

"I don't want to miss the ceremony, Crowley. I'm going inside. It's up to you if you're coming too."

Crowley muttered something dark and dirty under his breath, but he followed.

They stood at the back of the church, as unobtrusive as it's possible to be for an angel and a demon co-existing on hallowed ground. To his credit, Crowley managed to remain relatively still, shifting from one foot to the other rather than hopping, wincing but staying quiet; Aziraphale found himself tearing up, blinking rapidly as he listened to the vows Adam and his bride had written themselves.

"Are you--" Crowley began, then stopped as Aziraphale shushed him. He shook his head in apparent contempt, but then produced a handkerchief from out of nowhere and handed it to him. "Sentimental," he murmured. It almost, very nearly, didn't sound like an insult.

"Thank you," said Aziraphale softly, dabbing his eyes. He passed the handkerchief back and, in an absurd moment of impulse, instead of dropping it into Crowley's hand, he grabbed his hand. It was something about this moment, this place, these people, this _demon_. It was too tempting; there was love in every atom of the air.

At the front of the church, Adam said, "I do."

Crowley squeezed Aziraphale's hand. The handkerchief vanished; they didn't let go.

 

*******

 

"Who _are_ they?" Natalie Young asked, her breath warm against Adam's cheek as they swayed on the dancefloor to _You're My Best Friend_. The DJ seemed to be inordinately fond of Queen, which Adam was sure they hadn't actually requested for the wedding reception, but he supposed it was appropriate. The love of his life was his best friend - along, of course, with the Them, who were putting on a very good show over at the bar.

"Who?"

"Those two men. I'm sure I don't remember inviting them." She turned them in time with the music, so Adam could see who she was referring to, and he frowned as he tried to place them. A tall, lanky man wearing, for some reason, sunglasses, swaying together not unlike Adam and Natalie with a shorter man in a light suit. "They must be from your side."

Adam did know them, he was sure of it, even if he couldn't think of their names. A pair of distant uncles? Cousins, a few times removed? He shrugged, and Natalie tutted and laughed at the same time, a unique sound Adam had become inordinately fond of over the years.

"Well, they look happy," she commented. " _Very_ happy," she added, a smirk in her voice as they watched them disappear, hand in hand, away towards a dark corner and then somehow entirely out of sight.

Heaven and Hell may not have been, but their representatives on earth were.

 _Very_ happy.


End file.
